Su Yan’s ankle was swollen, purple, and looked alarming, though the pain was bearable—certainly less severe than when he had been caned.
Worried the two would fight again, Su Yan continued to groan in pain. Shen Qi set his blade down without a word and scooped Su Yan up in his arms, carrying him to the bed.
Wu Ming’s body seemed to tense at this, his expression growing even more serious as he followed with his sword in hand.
Shen Qi gently placed Su Yan on the bed, brushing aside some of his damp hair and dabbing at the sweat on his forehead with the corner of a blanket. “Hold on, I’ll get some medicine.”
“There’s no need. I have some,” Wu Ming said. Being in a profession where injuries were common, he always carried some medicinal ointment. He pulled out a small iron box, opening it to reveal a dark-brown salve that smelled strongly of camphor and musk—an effective remedy for bruises and swelling.
“Give it to me,” Shen Qi demanded, extending his hand.
Wu Ming, noticing the closeness between Shen Qi and Su Yan, started to suspect that what he had witnessed earlier may not have been an assault but rather a mutual encounter.
He couldn’t make sense of it.
Yu Wang had both status and looks. Setting aside his behavior, he was undeniably an impressive figure. Su Yan had always treated him coldly, even throwing a chessboard at his face when provoked. His upright character and courage to stand against power had earned Wu Ming’s admiration.
But Shen Qi? His looks didn’t surpass those of Yu Wang, and his character was even worse, venomous and vile. He was nothing more than a watchdog of the state—how had he managed to capture Lord Su’s attention?
It was as if the moon, pristine in the sky, had refused to shine on swaying willows but had decided to illuminate the dirtiest of gutters!
After racking his brain, Wu Ming came to only one conclusion: Shen Qi must have used some despicable means to blackmail Su Yan, forcing him to comply. Maybe Su Yan had been caught off guard or was isolated with no one around to help, allowing Shen Qi to take advantage. Repeatedly, using the same threats, Su Yan had likely been coerced into submission.
Wu Ming felt he had figured it out, but he desperately wished he hadn’t.
Guilt gnawed at him. He suspected that his staying at Su Yan’s home to recover had brought a wolf into the fold, and his departure—without considering the consequences—had left Su Yan defenseless, plunging him into this nightmare.
Su Yan had saved his life, nursed him back to health, and treated him with kindness. Even though Wu Ming had been aloof, refusing to even teach him proper martial arts moves, Su Yan had never shown any resentment. He had no airs of a high-ranking official. And how had Wu Ming repaid him? By bringing disaster to his doorstep.
Memories of his poverty-stricken childhood flashed through Wu Ming’s mind—how the owner of a bun shop had once pitied him and given him a bun. Wu Ming had taken it home to share with his sister, only to go back and steal two more. His sister had found out and whipped him with a bamboo stick, crying, “To be ungrateful is worse than being a pig or a dog! We may be poor, but we’re clean. We don’t need you disgracing us!”
Wu Ming had returned the stolen buns and knelt before their parents’ shrine for an hour before his sister forgave him. From that day forward, he never stole again.
After his elder sister married, she became preoccupied with managing household affairs and attending to her in-laws and husband, leaving no time to guide him. Rebellious in youth and stubborn by nature, he inadvertently killed a wicked servant and had to flee his home, wandering the martial world. In doing so, he betrayed his sister’s teachings and became a fugitive driven solely by money, indifferent to human bonds.
Later, his sister fell victim to Wei, the old thief, who not only humiliated but murdered her so cruelly that her body couldn’t even be retrieved in full. What they thought was the end of their hardships turned into the complete destruction of their family.
If hatred were ink, his organs and every bone would have been dyed pitch black. If he were to cut open his flesh with a sword, the mournful and despairing cries of his sister would echo endlessly from within, reverberating through his body day and night.
His will to live as a man was tethered entirely to Wei Jun’s death. As long as Wei Jun lived, he could only exist as a shell of a man, clinging to a wretched existence.
Since his sister’s passing, this was the first time her teachings broke through the endless cries: “To forget kindness and abandon righteousness is worse than being a beast!”
The words echoed vividly, and Wu Ming was utterly ashamed of himself.
Seeing him staring blankly at Su Yan on the bed, Shen Qi’s face darkened further, and he sneered coldly, “Do you want me to take it from you? I’d gladly settle things with you, but not here or now.”
Wu Ming snapped out of his daze, his expression turning frosty. He walked to the foot of the bed, knelt, and gently placed Su Yan’s injured ankle on his knee.
Shen Qi, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, sprang up with a furious expression. Snatching at the medicine box, he barked, “If you so much as touch him, I’ll chop your hands off and feed them to the dogs!”
Wu Ming shielded the bare foot on his knee and the medicine box in his hands, deflecting Shen Qi’s attempt to grab it.
In an instant, the two clashed—fingers, palms, and fists exchanging seven or eight blows. The fierce wind of their strikes stirred the air, aggravating the swelling and pain in Su Yan’s already throbbing ankle.
Infuriated, Su Yan slammed the bed frame with his fist. “D*mn it! Hand over the medicine! I’ll do it myself! Get out and fight somewhere else!”
Seething with anger, Su Yan propped himself up slightly but then collapsed back, his head throbbing. He reached behind to touch the back of his head and felt a lump—the result of his earlier collision with the bath bucket.
“I’ve got a lump on my head from when you threw me!” he accused Shen Qi. “What if I get a concussion? Are you taking responsibility?”
Shen Qi froze for a moment, then reluctantly sat back down to check the back of Su Yan’s head. Among the roots of his hair was a coin-sized bump, swollen and reddened but otherwise not serious. He massaged the bruise to disperse the clotting blood.
Faced with Su Yan’s indignant “Whoever caused this mess fixes it” glare, Shen Qi could only let him rest his head on his thigh and dutifully massage the lump.
Wu Ming, now free from interference, swiftly opened the box, applied the ointment to Su Yan’s ankle, and used his internal strength to gradually activate the medicinal properties, promoting blood flow and relieving the injury.
As the cool sensation seeped into his skin, the burning pain subsided significantly. Su Yan sighed in relief, stretching out his limbs, which had been curled up from the pain, and muttered, “What kind of mess is this… Why am I always the unlucky one?”
The hastily wrapped robe had become disheveled, revealing a patch of pale skin. Annoyed, Shen Qi yanked the blanket over him and tucked it in, then shot a glare at Wu Ming.
The black-clad assassin only focused on the injured ankle, not daring to look anywhere else, his eyes as still as an ancient well or a barren tree. Shen Qi thought to himself, at least he knows his place!
But he still couldn’t be trusted. This assassin had a dubious background, and who knew how many enemies he’d made. Wei Jun was desperate to capture him, and if his location was exposed, Su Yan could be implicated.
The Wei family held great power and couldn’t be easily toppled. Su Yan had already offended Wei Jun, making his situation precarious. Allowing this assassin to remain by his side could only worsen things.
It would be best if he went back to attempting risky assassinations. If both sides clashed, it wouldn’t matter who died—Shen Qi would gladly watch either outcome. He calculated silently and then warned Su Yan, “Tonight, you were lucky. Do you know that Feng Que sent assassins disguised as the killers of Ye Donglou to murder you? I found out and tracked them, eventually taking out both. After cleaning up, I changed clothes to come here and warn you.”
Su Yan, now realizing the gravity of the situation, felt a wave of fear. It’s easy to dodge an open attack, but not an ambush. Being targeted by the nation’s top spymaster meant sleepless nights ahead.
“They’ve found another opportunity to use someone else to do their dirty work,” Su Yan sighed. “It’s only going to get more dangerous from now on. I need to figure out a way to take him down.”
“It’s probably another order from Wei Jun. That old dog is relentless. If someone had just assassinated him earlier, none of this would be happening. Letting him roam free only leads to more suffering. The blood of the innocents is on the heads of those too weak to stop him,” Shen Qi remarked, clearly trying to provoke Wu Ming.
The medicine had worked its magic. Wu Ming placed Su Yan’s foot back on the bed, left the ointment at the foot of the bed, and stood up to leave.
Su Yan called after him, “Where are you going?”
“To finish what I started.”
“Don’t be foolish. Wei Jun isn’t that easy to kill. You might see him seemingly alone, but you don’t see the hidden guards around him. Shen Qi is trying to provoke you, can’t you tell?”
“Whether he provokes me or not is irrelevant. I have hatred in my heart and a sword in my hand. If I want to act, I will.”
Wu Ming took a few steps before turning his head slightly. The side of his face illuminated by the candlelight was invisible to Su Yan, but the half shrouded in shadow was cold and resolute, like an arrow on the verge of release.
Su Yan was struck by his unwavering resolve and instinctively tried to get up, but Shen Qi pressed his shoulder down, preventing him from moving. Struggling to free himself, Su Yan shouted, “Wu Ming! I know you’re eager for revenge, but trust me, I will eliminate that tumour!”
Wu Ming replied, “The price you’ll pay to remove him will be far higher than mine.”
Su Yan froze, finally understanding that this assassin didn’t value his own life. They say life is as fragile as grass—some see others that way, but Wu Ming viewed his own life with the same disregard.
Frustrated, Su Yan slammed the bedframe, shouting, “If you don’t care about your life, then give it to me! I saved you, so no one has the right to waste it—not even you!”
After a moment of tension, Wu Ming returned to his cold, detached demeanor. His voice was low and emotionless: “If I return alive—”
Before he could finish, a shadow flickered in the room, and with a soft creak from the window, he was gone without another word.
“…Then what?” Su Yan asked, bewildered, to the empty space in front of him.
Shen Qi sneered.
A man with a death wish is like a sword unsheathed with no intention of returning. Wu Ming, an expert in swordsmanship, understood this principle better than anyone.
He was merely using half a promise to comfort Su Yan—and perhaps himself as well.
Su Yan felt a sharp pang of emptiness and regret, a heavy, piercing feeling in his chest.
Seeing Su Yan’s downcast expression, Shen Qi grew both bitter and angry. “He’s off risking his life, while I’m the one paying for it, yet you don’t even spare a thought for me.”
Su Yan snapped out of his thoughts. “What?”
“In the past, Feng Que would only trust me with these tasks, but tonight, he didn’t send me to kill you. Do you know what that means?” Shen Qi sneered. “Since the caning incident, he’s been suspicious of me, and it still hasn’t passed. If he had given me tonight’s mission, it would’ve been a test of my loyalty, and I might’ve had a chance to redeem myself. But he didn’t even consider me, meaning in his eyes, I’m already a traitor. And for a traitor, there’s only one fate—death.”
Su Yan was surprised. “So soon? I thought about it. You’ve been protecting me in secret, and it’s only a matter of time before Feng Que won’t tolerate it, but I didn’t expect him to be so quick. After all, you’ve followed him for years. I thought he’d at least hesitate.”
“He’s a heartless man. What old loyalties are there to consider? I might die even earlier than that failed assassin. If Wu Ming gets caught, he can still end his life with a sword. But me? I know all too well what it’s like in the imperial prison—living or dying won’t be up to me. And my death will be far worse than anyone else’s.”
Su Yan’s heart sank again, realizing that Shen Qi was now in danger because of him. Shen Qi could’ve remained in his role as an Embroidered Uniform Guard commander—cruel and powerful. Even if he eventually lost favor, his death would’ve been swift. Now, because of Su Yan, he was facing a much more brutal fate.
Shen Qi, seeing the effect of his words, pushed further, sneaking his arm around Su Yan’s waist and drawing him closer. In a soft voice, he said, “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve made my choice. From the moment I first saw you on that bridge, when you lifted your eyes to look at me, I knew my fate had arrived.
I’ve thought about it—if I killed you, would it end this fate? But that thought, even more torturous than a steel blade slicing my bones, made me realize I couldn’t do it.”
“But I can’t suffer through this for nothing. So, I’ll cling to you, whether I survive or not. If I survive this ordeal, you’ll never escape me. And if I don’t…” Shen Qi’s hand slipped inside Su Yan’s robe, caressing his skin as he continued, “At least let me fulfill this wish before I die. Will you?”
Su Yan held onto Shen Qi’s hand, momentarily at a loss for words.
He knew that Shen Qi had desires for him—or more accurately, for the body of the original owner—but this body was now a part of him, no matter how uncomfortable he felt. The thought of putting on a “it’s fine, go ahead” attitude towards another man… He couldn’t do it, not even if he tried!
Su Yan awkwardly said, “This… I really can’t handle it. I’m straight, you know? I only like women. No matter how handsome a man is, I’m just not interested.”
Shen Qi embraced him, gently pulling him down onto the soft bed, covering Su Yan’s eyes with his hand, and whispered, “Then close your eyes and pretend I’m a woman. Let me take care of you.”
With darkness covering his eyes, Su Yan felt his sense of security slipping away, panic rising in his chest. He tried to move his fingers but was tightly held by Shen Qi.
Something felt off… How did it come to this? At what point did things go wrong? It seemed like a serious mistake, one that might lead to lifelong regret…
His outer robe was quickly undone, and Su Yan, like a fox caught in a trap, made a small defiant move, only to be gently but firmly restrained again by the hunter.
Just as he was debating whether to give up and escape, a sudden knock on the door tore open the carefully woven net around him.
He took that opportunity and quickly wriggled out.
“Who’s there?” Su Yan asked warily.
He tried to push Shen Qi off and get up, but Shen Qi held him down firmly. Shen Qi gritted his teeth and said, “You misheard. It’s someone knocking on the other room’s door.”
The knocking paused for a moment, then resumed, followed by a soft voice calling out, “Lord Su, Lord Su, could you open the door, please?”
Su Yan recognized the voice as that of the young servant who had brought hot water earlier. He asked, “What’s the matter?”
“It’s… important.”
“Important my foot!” Shen Qi, now with his helmet and armor off, his belt discarded at the head of the bed, half-exposed his chest and solid abs, looking like he was about to lash out with a blade. His face was dark with suppressed anger. “Knocking on the door in the middle of the night, they’re up to no good. Ignore them. With me here, no one can harm you.”
He grabbed Su Yan by the shoulders, trying to pull him back down onto the bed.
But Su Yan had already shaken off his earlier confusion and wasn’t about to be trapped again. He called out, “What’s the matter? Speak first.”
The young servant’s voice went silent. A moment later, another deliberately lowered voice, that of a young man, came through: “Qinghe, it’s me. Open the door, quickly!”
That voice belonged to… the Crown Prince, Zhu Helin!
